


A Sleepless Night

by PusillanimousBitch1138



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins
Genre: Angst, Death, Drabble, F/M, Mention of Death, Mention of blood, blood mention, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 13:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16703428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PusillanimousBitch1138/pseuds/PusillanimousBitch1138
Summary: The Grey Warden, Mireena, and company are camping at Ostagarth after returning for the key. Alistair awakens to find the Mireena not in bed and goes looking for her. (Rated teen just to be safe? But really it should be fine.)





	A Sleepless Night

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short rambling brought on by Alistair being adorably sensitive about Cailan.

The chill of the frosty air managed to seep into Alistair’s bones, even despite the thick tent pushed against the wall, despite the four layers of blankets he was under, despite the warmth of the small fire and the friends who were huddled in with him. He awoke with his teeth chattering, body shivering, and frowned to realize he was alone in his bedroll, the Warden no longer beside him. 

Looking about, he noted that both Zevran and Wynne were still in the tent, seemingly asleep. “Mireena?” he whispered. When he couldn’t see her, an uneasiness settled in his gut. It was foolish to set up camp here, but the incoming storm had forced them to remain among the bodies of their fallen comrades from so long ago. What if she had gone to relieve herself and come across a band of darkspawn? Part of him knew it was foolish to be afraid—she was, after all, the single strongest woman he had ever met, but still he understood that it was a very real possibility. 

He stood and, as quietly and quickly as he could, gathered his sword, shield, and a blanket and slipped out of the tent. The storm was mostly done now, no longer a raging blizzard but rather a soft snowfall, but the cold was significantly worse now that the sun was gone. There were large snow drifts in places, but otherwise nothing had changed much. Setting his teeth to keep from shivering, he set out in search of her.

It didn’t take him long to find the brightly glowing light from down below, and a part of him clenched in fear. There was a large fire, one that they hadn’t set, down on the battlefield. He rushed to the side of the bridge and ducked down low, peering over the ledge to observe. Could it be the Darkspawn, back for more? “Maker be damned we never should have stayed to camp,” he cursed quietly. 

A figure down below moved, large and awkwardly shambling. Alistair clicked the pommel of Duncan’s sword slightly out of the sheath in an automatic response but made no other move. As he watched, however, the figure walked a short ways past the fire before splitting into two, half of it falling to the ground, and the blood in his veins froze in fear.

A body. 

Before he could even register he was moving, Alistair had taken off running, blanket forgotten, racing down through the emptied Darkspawn tunnels, down into the battlefield where his king and his best friend had been so brutally betrayed. He raced out onto the icy plain, prepared to fight whatever monstrosity he would face, but faltered at the last moment when he realized what he was seeing. The bodies of his friends, his allies, his comrades were laid about in the fresh snow, their arms folded across their chests, coins laid on their closed eyes, any blood upon their faces washed away. 

She turned to him, her curly brown hair usually kept in a tight bun loose about her shoulders. She wore no overcoat, only in a spare set of robes belonging to Wynne. Her cheeks and nose were tinted a vicious pink beneath her brown vallaslin, and her chestnut eyes burned in the fire. Alistair walked over to her, frowning. “Mireena, darling, what are you doing?” 

She let him pull her into him and sighed softly, breath visible against the falling snow. “I couldn’t sleep, knowing they were still out here. We gave Cailan a proper farewell, it’s only right we do the same for his men.”  
He looked towards the rows of frozen bodies. There were at least a hundred of them settled out here. This must have taken her all night, especially considering that she is not a warrior, nor is she particularly physically strong. He looked down at her and could see the evidence of the night about her. She had bags under her eyes, a few blood stains against her cheeks and along her small body. Unable to resist the urge, he pulled her to him again and held her tightly for a long moment before kissing her head. “I agree,” he whispered. She smiled up at him and nodded before slipping out of his arms to resume. 

With the two of them, things moved faster but still took them nearly into midday. Wynne and Zevran either were still asleep or allowing them privacy to finish their task. In the end, two pyres were lit, one in the battlefield below, and one in the heart of the ruins. Alistair and Mireena stood side by side, watching the flames rise into the warming sky, his arm around her shoulders, hers around his waist. He couldn’t prevent the handful of tears that slid down his face as he said silent goodbyes to his fallen brothers, and she didn’t bring it up, only holding him tighter. 

They gathered their supplies and left Ostagarth, but Alistair paused with the ruins just barely visible over the last rise. Mireena walked over to him. “Alistair?” 

He looked back once more, back at the final resting place of his brother, his mentor, his friends, and said one more final, silent prayer for them before he turned back to her. He hugged her to him again and against her now messy curls he whispered, “Thank you.”


End file.
